youthmystique

When I was in third grade, my parents allowed me to get my first hamster. At first I wanted a guinea pig because my best friend had one, but when we went to the pet store, the guinea pigs were really jumpy. The pet store worker had trouble getting a hold of one and I think the one guinea pig had tried to bite her. I ended up falling in love with a Russian Hamster that I brought home and named Sammy.

Sammy was a very good hamster for the most part. We got him one of those hamster balls so he could go exploring in the house and have some fun. Unfortunately, sometimes we forgot to close the basement door and he went down the stairs for a ride.

One time, Sammy fell asleep in his ball and I woke him up so I could put him back in his cage and he ended up biting me. I still have the scar.

When I was about 9, Sammy passed away. I remember feeling so heartbroken knowing that I would never get to play with my Sammy again. He’d never run around in his ball and I’d never see his little twitching nose.

I think I grieved for a while until getting my second hamster, Misty. I don’t remember being as upset after Misty died. I liked him just as much, but I understood that life doesn’t last forever. And I hoped that the pets I lost made it to their respective heaven: hamster heaven or kitty heaven.